


None of This Has Happened Yet

by gilligankane



Category: Guiding Light
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Except, she's not. Again and again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	None of This Has Happened Yet

She’s in the graveyard on her knees – physically, at first, then metaphorically – and Natalia is staring at her with wide eyes, waiting for the punch line that’s never coming. She’s moving forward, cupping Natalia’s face with her shaking hands, telling her everything any bride-to-be doesn’t want to hear on her wedding day from someone who isn’t her groom. She’s saying everything she’s been choking back; letting the dam in her chest break, on her own terms.

_“Natalia, I need you to understand…”_

Except, she’s not.

 _“You, you_ can’t _, Olivia. You_ can’t _do this now.”_

She’s not standing at Gus’s grave and she’s not leaving and Natalia isn’t trudging behind her, stone silent.

\---

She’s in the living room, her hand gripping the stem of her champagne glass so hard she knows she could snap it as easily as she could down in with one swallow. She’s giving a speech, listing all the ways Natalia has changed her life; made her a better person. She’s looking only at Natalia, ignoring the way Frank’s arm is draped across the other woman’s waist, low and tight, and the words are just erupting from her mouth like a broken pipe.

 _“You’ve changed me, with your goodness and your faith,”_ and your love _, she adds silently._

Except, she’s not.

_And Natalia smiles at her while Frank’s grin drops ever so slightly on one side._

She’s not standing by the couch and she’s not smiling and she’s doesn’t go upstairs with her eyes burning and Natalia isn’t still in the living room, kissing her fiancé.

\---

She’s on the front porch and she’s struggling to find a way to make it alright for Natalia; the younger woman needs to heard that the world won’t come crashing down on her. She’s getting coffee to calm the night down because in between her sarcasm and her soothing she can hear her other words slipping through. She’s on the front porch, caught in the window and Frank is on one knee and Natalia is staring at her and she’s not can feel the word  _no_ bubble up inside of her.

 _“You’re one of the most faithful people I know. God will_ always _forgive you Natalia.”_

Except, she’s not.

_“Frank, I…I’m not sure what to say.”_

_“Say yes; you’ll be my wife.”_

She’s not holding a cup of coffee and she’s not saying that things will work themselves out and Natalia isn’t even on the porch.

\---

She’s in her room, pacing and crying and screeching that Phillip needs to die and even if she means it, all she can focus on is the way Natalia’s hands fit in hers and how they seem to cut through the dull pain like a sharp knife. She’s breathing heavy and sobbing harder and Natalia smiles and tells her to trust her and she does: completely and desperately. She’s so close to saying everything she hasn’t been saying, like a river overflowing in her throat.

_“I, I just don’t want to lose her to him again.”_

Except, she’s not.

_“I will never let him take her away from you Olivia; you need to believe that.”_

She’s not frantic because Emma didn’t go testify at Phillip’s trial and she’s not worried that her daughter will be corrupted and Natalia isn’t telling her it’s going to be alright and that everything will be fine.

\---

She’s in the living room and she’s trying to think of a way to explain herself to Natalia, who is standing away from her, waiting for answer. She’s racking her brain, trying to come up with a reason her heart is racing so fast and it’s not a bad racing like her pacemaker is stopping. She’s wondering  _why_  just like Natalia and the other woman is just staring at her, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. She’s wondering  _why_  she kissed Natalia and how she’ll explain that she enjoyed it; that she wants to do it again.

_“…Tarzan, Jane. Jane, Jane!”_

Except, she’s not.

_“Do I have to hit you over the head with this?”_

She’s not, because Natalia hasn’t pulled away yet and her hands are still gripping and locking a little behind Natalia’s neck and because her eyes are still closed and her mouth is still pressed against soft heat.

 _“What was_ that _?”_

She’s not, because Natalia hasn’t pulled away yet.

Because she’s still suspended in a moment.

And she has no idea what’ll happen next.

As long as Natalia doesn’t let go, she doesn’t care.


End file.
